Читать книгу Cymbeline (The Unabridged Play) + The Classic Biography: The Life of William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare - Страница 16

Enter Posthumus, and Philario.

Post. Feare it not Sir: I would I were so sure

To winne the King, as I am bold, her Honour

Will remaine her’s

Phil. What meanes do you make to him?

Post. Not any: but abide the change of Time,

Quake in the present winters state, and wish

That warmer dayes would come: In these fear’d hope

I barely gratifie your loue; they fayling

I must die much your debtor

Phil. Your very goodnesse, and your company,

Ore-payes all I can do. By this your King,

Hath heard of Great Augustus: Caius Lucius,

Will do’s Commission throughly. And I think

Hee’le grant the Tribute: send th’ Arrerages,

Or looke vpon our Romaines, whose remembrance

Is yet fresh in their griefe

Post. I do beleeue

(Statist though I am none, nor like to be)

That this will proue a Warre; and you shall heare

The Legion now in Gallia, sooner landed

In our not-fearing-Britaine, then haue tydings

Of any penny Tribute paid. Our Countrymen

Are men more order’d, then when Iulius Caesar

Smil’d at their lacke of skill, but found their courage

Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline,

(Now wingled with their courages) will make knowne

To their Approuers, they are People, such

That mend vpon the world.

Enter Iachimo.

Phi. See Iachimo Post. The swiftest Harts, haue posted you by land;

And Windes of all the Corners kiss’d your Sailes,

To make your vessell nimble

Phil. Welcome Sir

Post. I hope the briefenesse of your answere, made

The speedinesse of your returne

Iachi. Your Lady,

Is one of the fayrest that I haue look’d vpon

Post. And therewithall the best, or let her beauty

Looke thorough a Casement to allure false hearts,

And be false with them

Iachi. Heere are Letters for you

Post. Their tenure good I trust

Iach. ‘Tis very like

Post. Was Caius Lucius in the Britaine Court,

When you were there?

Iach. He was expected then,

But not approach’d

Post. All is well yet,

Sparkles this Stone as it was wont, or is’t not

Too dull for your good wearing?

Iach. If I haue lost it,

I should haue lost the worth of it in Gold,

Ile make a iourney twice as farre, t’ enioy

A second night of such sweet shortnesse, which

Was mine in Britaine, for the Ring is wonne

Post. The Stones too hard to come by

Iach. Not a whit,

Your Lady being so easy

Post. Make note Sir

Your losse, your Sport: I hope you know that we

Must not continue Friends

Iach. Good Sir, we must

If you keepe Couenant: had I not brought

The knowledge of your Mistris home, I grant

We were to question farther; but I now

Professe my selfe the winner of her Honor,

Together with your Ring; and not the wronger

Of her, or you hauing proceeded but

By both your willes

Post. If you can mak’t apparant

That you haue tasted her in Bed; my hand,

And Ring is yours. If not, the foule opinion

You had of her pure Honour; gaines, or looses,

Your Sword, or mine, or Masterlesse leaue both

To who shall finde them

Iach. Sir, my Circumstances

Being so nere the Truth, as I will make them,

Must first induce you to beleeue; whose strength

I will confirme with oath, which I doubt not

You’l giue me leaue to spare, when you shall finde

You neede it not

Post. Proceed Iach. First, her Bedchamber

(Where I confesse I slept not, but professe

Had that was well worth watching) it was hang’d

With Tapistry of Silke, and Siluer, the Story

Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman,

And Sidnus swell’d aboue the Bankes, or for

The presse of Boates, or Pride. A peece of Worke

So brauely done, so rich, that it did striue

In Workemanship, and Value, which I wonder’d

Could be so rarely, and exactly wrought

Since the true life on’t was-

Post. This is true:

And this you might haue heard of heere, by me,

Or by some other

Iach. More particulars

Must iustifie my knowledge

Post. So they must,

Or doe your Honour iniury

Iach. The Chimney

Is South the Chamber, and the Chimney-peece

Chaste Dian, bathing: neuer saw I figures

So likely to report themselues; the Cutter

Was as another Nature dumbe, outwent her,

Motion, and Breath left out

Post. This is a thing

Which you might from Relation likewise reape,

Being, as it is, much spoke of

Iach. The Roofe o’th’ Chamber,

With golden Cherubins is fretted. Her Andirons

(I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids

Of Siluer, each on one foote standing, nicely

Depending on their Brands

Post. This is her Honor:

Let it be granted you haue seene all this (and praise

Be giuen to your remembrance) the description

Of what is in her Chamber, nothing saues

The wager you haue laid

Iach. Then if you can

Be pale, I begge but leaue to ayre this Iewell: See,

And now ‘tis vp againe: it must be married

To that your Diamond, Ile keepe them

Post. Ioue-

Once more let me behold it: Is it that

Which I left with her?

Iach. Sir (I thanke her) that

She stript it from her Arme: I see her yet:

Her pretty Action, did out-sell her guift,

And yet enrich’d it too: she gaue it me,

And said, she priz’d it once

Post. May be, she pluck’d it off

To send it me

Iach. She writes so to you? doth shee?

Post. O no, no, no, ‘tis true. Heere, take this too,

It is a Basiliske vnto mine eye,

Killes me to looke on’t: Let there be no Honor,

Where there is Beauty: Truth, where semblance: Loue,

Where there’s another man. The Vowes of Women,

Of no more bondage be, to where they are made,

Then they are to their Vertues, which is nothing:

O, aboue measure false

Phil. Haue patience Sir,

And take your Ring againe, ‘tis not yet wonne:

It may be probable she lost it: or

Who knowes if one her women, being corrupted

Hath stolne it from her

Post. Very true,

And so I hope he came by’t: backe my Ring,

Render to me some corporall signe about her

More euident then this: for this was stolne

Iach. By Iupiter, I had it from her Arme Post. Hearke you, he sweares: by Iupiter he sweares.

‘Tis true, nay keepe the Ring; ‘tis true: I am sure

She would not loose it: her Attendants are

All sworne, and honourable: they induc’d to steale it?

And by a Stranger? No, he hath enioy’d her,

The Cognisance of her incontinencie

Is this: she hath bought the name of Whore, thus deerly

There, take thy hyre, and all the Fiends of Hell

Diuide themselues betweene you

Phil. Sir, be patient:

This is not strong enough to be beleeu’d

Of one perswaded well of

Post. Neuer talke on’t:

She hath bin colted by him

Iach. If you seeke

For further satisfying, vnder her Breast

(Worthy her pressing) lyes a Mole, right proud

Of that most delicate Lodging. By my life

I kist it, and it gaue me present hunger

To feede againe, though full. You do remember

This staine vpon her?

Post. I, and it doth confirme

Another staine, as bigge as Hell can hold,

Were there no more but it

Iach. Will you heare more?

Post. Spare your Arethmaticke,

Neuer count the Turnes: Once, and a Million

Iach. Ile be sworne Post. No swearing:

If you will sweare you haue not done’t, you lye,

And I will kill thee, if thou do’st deny

Thou’st made me Cuckold

Iach. Ile deny nothing

Post. O that I had her heere, to teare her Limb-meale:

I will go there and doo’t, i’th’ Court, before

Her Father. Ile do something.

Enter.

Phil. Quite besides

The gouernment of Patience. You haue wonne:

Let’s follow him, and peruert the present wrath

He hath against himselfe

Iach. With all my heart.

Exeunt.

Enter Posthumus.

Post. Is there no way for Men to be, but Women

Must be halfe-workers? We are all Bastards,

And that most venerable man, which I

Did call my Father, was, I know not where

When I was stampt. Some Coyner with his Tooles

Made me a counterfeit: yet my Mother seem’d

The Dian of that time: so doth my Wife

The Nonpareill of this. Oh Vengeance, Vengeance!

Me of my lawfull pleasure she restrain’d,

And pray’d me oft forbearance: did it with

A pudencie so Rosie, the sweet view on’t

Might well haue warm’d olde Saturne;

That I thought her

As Chaste, as vn-Sunn’d Snow. Oh, all the Diuels!

This yellow Iachimo in an houre, was’t not?

Or lesse; at first? Perchance he spoke not, but

Like a full Acorn’d Boare, a Iarmen on,

Cry’de oh, and mounted; found no opposition

But what he look’d for, should oppose, and she

Should from encounter guard. Could I finde out

The Womans part in me, for there’s no motion

That tends to vice in man, but I affirme

It is the Womans part: be it Lying, note it,

The womans: Flattering, hers; Deceiuing, hers:

Lust, and ranke thoughts, hers, hers: Reuenges hers:

Ambitions, Couetings, change of Prides, Disdaine,

Nice-longing, Slanders, Mutability;

All Faults that name, nay, that Hell knowes,

Why hers, in part, or all: but rather all. For euen to Vice

They are not constant, but are changing still;

One Vice, but of a minute old, for one

Not halfe so old as that. Ile write against them,

Detest them, curse them: yet ‘tis greater Skill

In a true Hate, to pray they haue their will:

The very Diuels cannot plague them better.

Enter.